314 THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 
I saw a babe with its mother die, 
I listened to catch its parting sigh, 
And I laughed to see the black billows play 
With the sleeping child in their gambols gay ; 
I saw a girl whose arms were white 
As the foam that danced on the billows height, 
And the ripples toyed with her glossy cm-ls. 
And her cheek was kissed by the wanton whirls ; 
But her bosom was dead to hope and fear. 
For she shuddered not, as the shark came near ; 
I poised my foot on the forehead fair 
Of a lovely boy that floated there; — 
I looked in the eyes of the drowning brave, 
As they upward gazed through the fatal wave ; — 
I screamed o'er the bubbles that told of death, 
And stooped as the last gave up his breath ; 
I flapped my wings, for the work was done ; 
The storm was hushed, and the golden sun 
Sent his light abroad o'er the lulling seas ; — 
And I tell my tale to the whispering breeze. 
Of the hidden things which the waves conceal, 
And the sea-bird's song can alone reveal. 
S. G. GOODRIDGE. 
